


where the two ends meet

by kiapet



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Roman kinda sorta got Remus killed, Witch!Logan, but he's really sorry about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiapet/pseuds/kiapet
Summary: The newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman knows two things:First, that his brother is dead.And second, that it is his fault.But when Roman journeys into the witch’s forest on a quest of penitence, he discovers that there is more to the story than he could have known. What he finds there may be his salvation— or his ruin.Takes place after angelsdemonsducks' fic "thrice for another day". Can also be read on its own.
Relationships: Background Intrulogical, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 16
Kudos: 69





	where the two ends meet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelsdemonsducks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsdemonsducks/gifts).
  * Inspired by [thrice for another day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735614) by [angelsdemonsducks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsdemonsducks/pseuds/angelsdemonsducks). 



Nearly a month after his family buries an empty coffin, the newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman slips out from his castle room and walks alone into the forest. 

Unlike past evenings, Roman does not turn into the stretch of woods closest to the castle. At this point, he could likely name every rock and tree and still not find what he’s looking for. Instead, he walks in a straight line, heading deeper and deeper into the woods. 

There is said to be a witch at the center of this forest, one who preys on the surrounding villages and whom no man should approach lest he meet his end. Roman had once thought to adventure into the woods to slay such a foul creature, but his intention tonight is far different. He has need of help only a wielder of magic can provide. 

And if the venture is to end in his death, so be it. 

  


Roman hasn’t been walking for long when he becomes aware of someone following him. The feeling comes and goes— a tingling on the back of his neck, like he’s being watched— but as Roman scans the woods around him, he cannot detect any signs of unusual activity. 

The third time he feels the presence, Roman comes to a sudden halt and places a hand on the hilt of his sword. 

“Show yourself, whoever you are!” he calls, then scans the trees around him for any sign of a response. 

“Why have you entered my woods?” an irritated voice says from somewhere behind him. 

Roman whirls around and draws his sword in a single, fluid motion. 

The person standing behind him raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Roman takes the man in: dark hair, a sharp-featured tan face, and piercing dark blue eyes that seem to peer straight to Roman’s core through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Despite the man’s simple clothing, Roman knows with a deep certainty that this is the witch. 

Ignoring all his instincts, Roman sheaves his sword and holds out his empty hands in a gesture of peace. 

“I have been searching for you,” he says. “I have a request to make of you, and am prepared to reward you well.” 

“I don’t make a habit of dealing with royalty,” the witch says coldly. 

Roman’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“Yes, I know who you are, Prince Roman of Thaylar,” the witch says, “and I am surprised you would dare come here, considering your family history. You are either very brave, or very foolish.” 

“Both,” Roman says, “but I mean you no harm. If you would hear me out—”

Dark blue energy forms in the witch’s hand. “I have nothing to hear from _you,_ witch-killer. I would advise that you vacate my premises, before I am forced to take action.” 

Roman swallows and takes an involuntary step back. Perhaps he should listen to the witch’s warning, abandon this fruitless quest and return to his bed. 

_It’s not worth it,_ his father had said after they found Remus’ trail leading to the forest. _He couldn’t have gotten far anyways._

Roman straightens his spine and lifts his chin. He owes this to his brother— owes him so much more than this, but it’s the only thing left that Roman can do. 

“I only wish to find my brother’s body,” Roman says, “So that I might bury him. Aid me in this and I will ask of you nothing more.” 

The witch seems to search Roman’s face for something, his expression unreadable. Then he nods once, sharply. 

“That, I can answer easily enough.” 

Without another word, the witch turns on his heel and heads off into the forest. Roman hurries to catch up, biting back the urge to question where they are going. The walk lasts far longer than it feels like it should, and Roman suspects the witch is leading him around in circles so he will not be able to tell how to get into his lair. _Or how to get out,_ some part of his mind whispers. He shoves it aside. 

Finally, they reach a small clearing with a wooden cottage that looks surprisingly simple and well-kept for a witch’s lair. The witch leads Roman around the back of the house to an herb garden, stopping at a small pile of stones. For a moment Roman wonders what spell the witch intends to cast here; then the shape of the stones registers fully. 

A cairn. 

“I found him a little ways out from here,” the witch says. “His ribs had broken and pierced his lungs, and he’d been bleeding internally. It was a miracle he managed to make it even that far.” 

Roman lowers himself to his knees and hesitantly places a hand on the upturned earth, trying to comprehend that under it is all that remains of his brother. Even now, it feels like all of this is a terrible dream, and one day he’ll wake up and Remus will be alive and driving him crazy again. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” the witch says stiffly. 

Roman’s chest feels tight, and he swallows past something lodged in his throat. 

“He would like being buried here, by the garden,” he chokes out. “He always went on about how everyone becomes food for worms and fungus eventually. If you were to grow your strangest plants over his grave, it would have made him very happy.” 

It feels wrong, to speak of his brother in the past tense. 

“Might I ask what happened?” 

Roman squeezes his eyes shut, holding back the tears that burn at their corners. He doesn’t deserve to cry, not over this. 

“I gave him up as a witch,” he whispers. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and the words seem to grate and tear at his throat. “He trusted me with his life, and I betrayed him.” 

The silence behind Roman is telling. 

“Thank you,” Roman rasps, “For putting him to rest.” 

He stays there, kneeling in the dirt, long after the witch has returned inside. 

  


_Remus cries out as he tumbles into the tower room’s wall, jarring harshly against the rough stone._

_“Father,” Remus cries, “Father, wait—”_

_“You are no son of mine!” Father snarls, lifting Remus by the front of his shirt. “Foul demon!”_

_Roman’s mind screams at him to do something, to run forward and grab Remus or yell at his father to stop but instead he just stands there, frozen in horror, as in one great motion his father shoves Remus through the tower’s window and dangles him out over open air._

_Time seems to slow as Father screams curse after curse in Remus’ face, as Remus clutches at the hands holding him above a dizzying drop. Remus’ gaze slides over to meet Roman’s, and for one terrible moment Roman sees in his eyes pure devastation. The agony of betrayal._

_And then Father releases his hold, and Remus is gone._

Roman wakes up screaming. 

He rolls over onto his side and curls up in a ball, taking harsh, gasping breaths. It takes a moment for him to register that he’s not standing in the castle tower staring in horror at the empty space where his brother used to be— the space that was _right there_ in front of him as if Roman could have reached out and touched him but he was already gone and it was too late—

Breathe. 

Roman closes his eyes and listens. In place of the screams that still ring in his head, he hears only the sound of wind swishing through trees. He reaches a hand out and feels loose dirt beneath him. He’s lying on the ground, outside. Roman opens his eyes and sees a dark sky full of stars. 

Perhaps Remus is among those stars now. Would he like that? He’d probably think it was boring, to be honest. The thought brings a slight smile to Roman’s face. 

Roman sits up, focusing on his breathing. It takes another moment for him to recognize where he is: the witch’s clearing, right by Remus’s... by the grave. It is dark except for the light of the moon— full, a poor omen. Roman had meant to be home by this time as the forest becomes vastly more dangerous at night, but apparently his many nights of lost sleep have finally caught up to him. There’s no use to it now; he’ll just have to wait for the light of dawn to find his way home. 

Father will not be happy when Roman returns after dawn has already broken. 

Roman has been much less concerned with keeping his father happy, as of late. 

No, what bothers him most is why he’s been allowed to stay here at all. Considering the witch’s initial hostility to him, Roman figured admitting to turning in his own brother for using magic would result in being thrown out at best and murdered in his sleep at worst. And yet here he is, sitting in the witch’s clearing un-murdered. 

Roman reaches out and touches Remus’s cairn with reverent fingers. He can’t bring himself to regret falling asleep here, dangerous though it may have been. It feels right to have slept beside his brother one last time. 

“Well isn’t this sweet! Roro, I didn’t know you cared so much.” 

Roman freezes. He _knows_ that voice. But— but that’s impossible—

Roman scrambles to his feet and turns, heart in his throat. 

Remus stands before him, illuminated by the light of the moon. He’s clad in the clothes he died in— Roman would know, he sees them in his dreams every night— and there’s a stain of something brown on his shoulder and neckline that Roman doesn’t particularly want to identify. 

Roman gapes. “Re, what— how—”

Remus’ smile is bright, but his eyes are cold. “I think you know, Roman.” 

Roman feels the blood drain from his face. 

They’ve all heard the legends: spirits of magic-users who roam the earth, invested with their magical power and seeking vengeance on those who wronged them. Roman’s father once taught him the proper ways to... dispose of... witches to prevent such a phenomenon from happening. It was Roman’s least favorite lesson by far. 

“There it is!” Remus cheers as the comprehension dawns on Roman’s face. 

Roman falls to his knees, trembling. 

“Remus,” he breathes, “Remus, I—”

He breaks off, lost for words. Roman has thought about what he would say to Remus if he had the chance dozens of times, dreamed up countless scenarios where he prostrated himself and begged for forgiveness or explained himself in a way Remus would understand. Now that he’s actually here, those dreams seem childish and futile in the face of everything that’s happened. 

“So funny story,” Remus says, “I’ve thought it over and _someone_ must have told the king about me, right? But I never practiced where anyone could see, and there’s only one person I ever shared my secret with. The person I always shared everything with. Got any idea who that could be, _brother?”_

Roman’s stomach feels like lead, and he can’t bring himself to look Remus in the eye. 

Remus laughs softly. “That’s what I thought.” 

His face twists in sudden fury and he shoots forward, getting in Roman’s face and forcing him to flinch back. 

“Do you know how it feels, Roman? To have every bone in your body shattered, shards of your own ribs stabbing your insides until you drown in your own blood? Do you know how it feels to lie helpless and dying on the forest floor, knowing your corpse will stay there forgotten, with you replaced without a second thought? How it feels to be betrayed by your own twin, the one person in the world you’d thought you could trust?” 

_“Stop!”_ Roman cries, clutching at his head. 

“Aw, is baby Roman too sensitive for all that?” Remus croons mockingly, pacing around him. “Do we need to protect his innocent little ears from the icky details of his brother’s brutal murder?” 

Tears gather in Roman’s eyes, and he struggles to keep them from falling. 

“Remus, I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen.” 

“Then what did you want? Why did you do it, Ro? Did you want my throne that much? Or did you just hate witches more than you loved—”

“No!” Roman protests. “No, Remus, I could never hate you!” 

“Then _why?”_ Remus says, and the raw pain that fills his voice is so much worse than the anger. “Why did you tell him?” 

Roman’s throat is tight and his eyes burn, but he forces the words out anyways. Remus deserves to know. 

“Y-you kept hurting yourself. You’d come in bleeding and half-dead from experimenting with your magic and you wouldn’t see a doctor and, and I thought that one day you were going to _kill yourself_ and it would be my fault for not stopping you. I thought if I— if I told Father, h-he would _make_ you stop—”

Remus laughs bitterly. “You thought old daddy dearest, who has scores of magic users killed every year, would what— let me off with a warning?” 

Roman flinches. “You’re his son! I didn’t— he was understanding before when I—”

“He was understanding of _you,”_ Remus says. _“You_ are his son. I’m sure he was thrilled at the chance to get rid of me.” 

_“I’m sorry.”_ The words force their way out in a whimper, and Roman’s stomach twists at their inadequacy. 

“You’re sorry,” Remus says flatly. 

Roman’s response catches in his throat, and instead he just bows his head, refusing to defend himself further. Nothing can make up for what he’s done. 

Remus laughs suddenly, loud and manic. He snaps his fingers and mutters under his breath, and Roman is lifted into the air, a gentle pressure holding his arms against his sides with far more control than Remus ever had in life. 

Remus gives him a vicious grin. “And what if I said ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough? What if I said I was going to have my vengeance, right here and right now?” 

Roman’s tears finally overflow, and with them the pain that has been building ever since Remus went out that window. 

“Do it,” he sobs. “Kill me.” 

“What?” Remus says, sounding startled. 

Roman bawls, not the pretty tears of the heroes in his books, but in wracking sobs that tear at his throat and send streams of tears and snot running down his face. 

“Please, just kill me. I killed you. I killed you, and I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I killed you.” He cuts off with another sob. “Do whatever you want with me, please, I deserve it. I deserve it.” 

The force holding Roman releases and he drops heavily to the ground. He curls up, chest heaving, and waits for the first blow to fall. 

But the touch that falls on his arm isn’t painful; it’s soft and warm. It pulls him up and holds him tightly against a chest that is solid, breathing, beating. 

Alive. 

“I’m not going to kill you, Roman,” Remus says, his voice strangely choked, and Roman can feel it reverberating through his chest. “You’re my _brother.”_

Roman’s heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest. Remus, he’s... he... how did he—

The world spins, and Roman sees a brief flash of Remus’ worried face before everything goes dark. 

  


_“Roman! Roman, please!” Remus screams. He clutches at Roman’s hands where they grip his shirt, his face a mask of terror as his legs dangle over nothingness._

_Roman fights desperately, screaming from deep within his mind, but his body doesn’t move._

_“Why, Roman? I’m your brother!” Remus whimpers, tears gathering in his eyes._

_Roman hammers at the boundaries of his mind but is helpless to stop it as his hands steadily, inexorably loosen._

_Remus screams again as he slips through Roman’s fingers and falls into the darkness._

_“Roman!”_

“Roman! Roman, wake up!” 

Roman jolts awake, his heart pounding as he gasps for breath. 

“Ro? Hey, can you hear me?” 

Roman blinks blearily and a face fades into focus above him. Worried red eyes, that ghastly mustache, a white streak in his hair... 

“Re?” he croaks. 

Remus grins. “There we are!” 

“Remus,” Roman breathes. He reaches out with one shaking hand to cup Remus’s face and feels warm flesh beneath his fingers. “Are you really here? Or— or am I dead?” 

Remus gives him a lopsided smile. “Takes more than getting thrown out of a tower and smashing my bones to smithereens to kill me!” 

Roman surges upwards, wrapping his arms around his brother and burying his face in his shoulder. 

“Hey, come on,” Remus says as Roman begins to shake, his tears wetting Remus’ shirt. “You’re going to dry yourself up if you keep crying this much. Just shrivel up like a human raisin until you end up a dried-out mummy and someone finds you like a thousand years later and wonders what the hell happened.” 

The thought is so gross and ridiculous and _Remus_ that Roman finds himself laughing through his tears. 

“Gods above, I missed you.” 

Composing himself, Roman pulls back and looks Remus over. He’s wearing simple, weathered clothing, his hair is an absolute mess and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s the most beautiful thing Roman has ever seen. 

“How?” Roman says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought you were— that I’d— How are you even here right now?” 

“I healed a bit and then dragged myself here,” Remus says. “Logan did the rest.” 

Remus looks back over his shoulder with a surprisingly soft smile, and for the first time since waking Roman tears his gaze away from his brother’s face to look at where they are. Roman is sitting on a cot in a simple wooden room, bare except for a small table and worn bookshelves lining one wall. The witch’s house, Roman assumes. The witch himself is standing stiffly a little ways behind Remus, his face transitioning from warm concern to dark displeasure as it moves from Remus to Roman. 

“You lied to me,” Roman says. “You knew he was alive all along”. 

“Technically, I never spoke a falsehood,” the witch— Logan— says coolly. “I did find Remus with the injuries I described. I merely was able to heal them, if barely.” 

“We had to be careful,” Remus says. “I didn’t know, if...” 

If Roman felt any real remorse for what he’d done. If he would turn Remus in again, once he found him. 

Roman rises from the cot, causing Logan to dart forward in alarm. But Roman just lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart. 

“I swear to you on my life, I never meant to harm you in any way,” Roman says. “I have regretted what I've done every day, every moment, since we parted.” 

“Yeah, I got that from the whole bursting-into-tears-and-telling-me-to-kill-you thing,” Remus says. “Which was dramatic even for you, by the way.” 

“People will often show their true selves during states of heightened emotion,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses. “The ruse was a logical course of action to discern your intentions.” 

“And also fun!” Remus says. “You should have seen your face, Ro, it was so white! I make a pretty scary ghost.” 

“You were terrifying,” Roman says honestly, which makes Remus beam. 

Still on one knee, Roman turns to address Logan. “And thank you, my good witch, for saving his life. I am forever in your debt.” 

“I didn’t do it for you,” Logan says sharply. That and his icy glare make it quite clear that he is not as forgiving as Remus. Roman winces internally; this whole debacle is not the best first impression to make to a sibling’s lover. 

And that’s what Logan is, or at least what Remus wants him to be— it’s written all over his brother’s face. Before... before, Roman would have teased Remus about it, and then Remus would probably have made some sort of lewd comment that would make Roman sputter and shove at him. They’re not quite at that point now, he thinks. Not yet. 

Roman inclines his head to the witch. “You have my gratitude all the same.” 

“Look at us, all making up and being friends!” Remus cheers, but Roman knows him well enough to see the lingering discomfort in the slant of his shoulders and curve of his smile. Remus isn’t as okay as he’s pretending to be. 

Roman rises and clasps Remus’ hand in his own. 

“Remus, I have done you a grave disservice. While I cannot take back the pain I have caused you, I _can_ offer you back the crown. If you wish it, I will give you my blade and the clothes off my back so that you may return to the castle in my stead and reclaim your birthright under my name.” 

Remus stares at him for a moment, then throws back his head and cackles. Something deep in Roman’s chest loosens at the sound; he hadn’t realized how much he missed Remus’ laugh. 

“Like hell am I going back to that burning trash heap!” Remus says. “Look, getting thrown out a window sucked major ass, but finding this—” he gestures to the house around him— “is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

Behind Remus, Logan’s face turns bright red. Well that answers that, then. 

Remus takes Roman’s other hand, meeting his eyes. “If you really want to make this up to me, go back. Become king. And _change things.”_

Roman bows his head once more. “I do not deserve this second chance, brother,” he whispers. 

His hands tighten on Remus’s and he meets his twin’s gaze again, determined. “But I will do as you ask. I swear it, with every inch of my being: I will make things right.” 

Remus shouldn’t trust Roman with something this important, not after Roman made it so clear what his word is worth. And yet, Remus nods as if satisfied and steps back. 

“It is past sunrise,” Logan says. “I will not have you drawing search parties into this forest when the castle discovers you are gone.” 

“I’d best be off then,” Roman says, knowing a dismissal when he hears one. 

“I’ll walk you back!” Remus says. 

“Absolutely not,” Logan snaps. “I will not allow you to walk that sort of distance while you are still on the mend.” 

“It’s been a month!” 

“And you were bedridden for weeks!” 

“Logan can show me out,” Roman says firmly. “The last thing I want is you hurting yourself more over me.” 

Remus’ eyes go watery. “But we just found each other again.” 

Roman pulls him into another hug. “I will return, as long as you will have me.” 

Remus nods into Roman’s shoulder, tightening his arms around him. They stay like that for a few moments more before they reluctantly part. 

“Right, then,” Roman says. “Goodbye, for now.” 

“Goodbye,” Remus says, unusually subdued. 

Logan shows Roman to the door, and together they begin to walk across the clearing to the trees. 

“You should know,” Logan says, “that if you break his trust again or hurt him in any way, all the guards in the castle will not be enough to stop me from killing you.” 

Roman laughs heartily at that. 

“I knew I liked you, Specs!” he says, slapping Logan on the back. “I’m glad Remus has someone like you looking out for him.” 

Logan blinks. “Right, then. Good.” 

“Wait!” 

Roman looks back to see Remus standing in the house’s doorway. He looks... concerned? 

“I know it’s going to take some time to be okay with what happened,” Remus says, “For both of us. But you weren’t the person who threw me off that tower. The king was. Just... remember that, okay? Remember that and _come back.”_

Roman nods mutedly, and the door closes. 

“Right,” he says, clearing a mysterious obstruction from his throat, “let’s go then.” 

With that, Roman turns and walks into the woods, headed back to the castle. Back to the duty he promised Remus he would fulfill. 

And this promise, Roman intends to keep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to angelsdemonsducks for writing a fic subplot that made me so emotional I ended up writing a 4,000-word fic about it in like a week- and for then being cool about me posting said fic.
> 
> Anyways I basically poured my heart and soul into this so if you liked it leave a kudos and maybe a comment if you're feeling it! Thank you for reading!


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